


These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree

by Mellaithwen



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captivity, Dementia, Gen, Memories, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mindwiping, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Not A Fix-It, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Torture, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellaithwen/pseuds/Mellaithwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There is no recognition in his eyes, but she can see the terror there, and the unshed tears of a desperate man.</i>
</p><p>Peggy chases the good doctor to Russia, only to see first-hand what they're planning on doing with a vial of Steve's blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the theory/headcanon floating around tumblr that Steve's blood will be used to create The Winter Soldier. As of posting, this is only a theory which is why the spoiler warnings are only up until the most recent aired episode, which was episode 1x06 A Sin To Err. 
> 
> I fully expect to get completely joss'd and this will be AU overall as a result.

...

 

 

When Steve comes to visit, it’s on one of her good days. Few and far between, she knows. Peggy sits herself up in bed as best she can. Her hair is already brushed, and she’s been practising a smile that won’t break his heart. It’s 2014, and Steve’s alive. _Don’t forget, don’t forget._

 

“I brought an old friend, I thought you might wanna see each other.” He says carefully, urging her to tell him if it’s not alright, smiling in such a way that says he’ll understand if she says no. But she’s curious, and it’s a good day, and oh how she longs to see so many old friends again. 

 

…

 

She wakes up in the middle of the night. 

 

Half asleep, she pads into the kitchen, checks the oven. It’s off. It’s always off. 

 

She goes back to bed.

 

…

 

 

They have the Vita-Ray technology and now they have Steve’s blood. 

 

She’d watched, helpless, as Dr. Ivchenko had smiled politely before leaning across the table she’d been chained to, and taken the spherical case away.

 

“You have no right!” She’d shouted after him, her wrist bleeding from where she was almost free from the handcuffs. 

 

“And you do?” He’d questioned, twirling his ring around his finger. Worrying it around and around while the Chief had held open the door for the Russian doctor, with a vacant look in his eye.

 

She sighs angrily thinking back on that moment. 

 

She’s trying very hard not to panic as they head back into Russia, but it’s not as easy as one might think. She wonders if it’s too late to get a message to Dugan and his boys. There’s a part of her that knows she’s running out of time—whatever the doctor’s planning with Steve’s blood, it can’t be anything good.

 

“This is all to do with Project Rebirth, isn’t it?” Agent Sousa blurts out suddenly and she resists the urge to congratulate him for working it out. 

 

“At this point, I really hope it isn’t, but..well, yes.”

 

“So the Russians are trying to what? Get their own Captain America? Make a bunch of Russian super-soldiers?”

 

“Or perhaps just one.”

 

One could be enough. In the right time, in the right place. One could be more than enough. 

 

…

 

_don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget._

 

…

 

When they are discovered, the doctor—though she would question any claim he had to such a title—makes no effort to hide his frustration.  She tries to interrogate him while his soldiers push and pull until she and Daniel are being held inches from his desk. Men have underestimated her before, and they are sure to do so again. 

 

So she keeps asking her questions. Who are you really? Who are you working for? Are you Leviathan? What are you doing here?

 

“Perhaps I will show you.”

 

…

 

 

_“….rter? Peg? Can you hear me?”_

 

_“What happened?”_

 

_“We have to get out of here. She needs a hospital.”_

 

_“But the weapon?”_

 

_“Wasn’t there, she told me as much before she passed out.”_

 

_“…damn.”_

 

…

 

 

They tell her she hit her head. She has a concussion. Agent Sousa explains that in searching for one of Howard’s stolen weapons, they ended up in an abandoned factory in Russia. They ran into looters, stealing metal in the snow, and one of them attacked her. Brutally. 

 

The weapon is long gone, along with the fake doctor she helped bring in to SSR headquarters. She forgets his name, so does everyone else.

 

“Some memory loss is common,” they say. “Many don’t ever recall the event itself.”

 

It’s the brain’s way of protecting itself from trauma. Scar tissue filling in the gaps in her memory. Daniel assures her that she’s not missing much, but she can’t ignore the feeling that she’s failed, and that this weapon could hurt a great deal of people. 

 

…

 

 

_“Steve?”_

 

_“Yeah?”_

 

_“You’re alive? You came back. It’s been so long, so long.”_

 

_“Well I couldn’t leave my best girl, not when she owes me a dance.”_

 

…

 

 

“‘ _Time takes it all,’_ ” her son reads to her aloud, sat beside her on the hospital bed like a child—when really he’s past fifty with children of his own. Today is a good day, she can remember all of  their names.

 

“ _‘Whether you want it to or not, time takes it all. Time bares it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again_ —Oh jeez, Mom, this is a little depressing, don’t’ch’a think?”

 

“Oh fine, what would you prefer?”

 

“Uh let’s see, we want something upbeat…” He sifts through the few books she brought with her, “and you own nothing of the sort…”

 

“What about _The Night Watch_? That’s not so bad.”

 

“The blurb has the word tragic in it.”

 

“Tender _and_ tragic,” she corrects, throwing the thick paperback back at him.

 

“I’ve got a bunch of essays on Marlowe I need to mark—we can mock the teenage interpretation of Dr. Faustus?”

 

“Ah the plight of the cynical old English teacher. Do you have anything else?”

 

“I have two left to mark on _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_   if you think that’s any better?”

 

“ _‘Quoth he, “The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.’_ ”

 

“Are you being ironic? It’s hard to tell with your funny accent.”

 

“Oh shut up, just read whatever you think is best, I’m quite content to listen.”

 

“Oh you’ll like this one, they’re only on their second paragraph and they’ve already used the word ‘synergy’ like four times.”

 

“Maybe not. What about Mrs. Dalloway?”

 

_Of her memories, most were happy._

 

Her son groans.

 

…

 

 

“Come to ask for another dance, Sergeant?”

 

He laughs, and that haunted look she’d seen in his eyes at the bar has started to fade a little. His eyes are blue, like Steve’s, and she thinks in another time she might have gotten lost in them. There’s a darkness there, for sure, an edge to the colour just short of piercing. 

 

“I think I’ll leave the dancing to Steve.”

 

“Is he any good?” She teases, having heard first hand from the Captain that he has two left feet and fumbles to keep up with any tune. 

 

“The best.” He tells her, tone somber, and she knows all of a sudden that they’re not talking about dancing anymore. “He’s…he’s a real good guy, Agent Carter,” he stops to rub the side of his neck in what she can only imagine is a display of nerves. “He’d kill me for telling you, but he likes you. A _lot._ ”

 

“I like him.”

 

“Yeah? That’s…that’s good, that’s _great_. He deserves to be happy.”

 

“We all do, Sergeant.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, keeps eye contact, and squeezes. “Don’t forget that.”

 

…

 

 

“She doesn’t remember, sir.”

 

_“Perhaps it’s for the best.”_ A tinny voice responds on the other line and all at once she’s infuriated.

 

“It’s rude to talk about people behind their back, Mr. Jarvis.” She says, striding up to him, and taking the telephone from his hands.

 

“Howard?”

 

The line is dead, and when she turns around, Mr. Jarvis is gone. She huffs under her breath and tries to ignore the headache building just beneath the surface.

 

…

 

 

She struggles as they tie her to the chair, and when that doesn’t work she finds it harder to breathe. She’s trapped, and she can’t very well save him, if she can’t save herself.

 

_don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget_

 

She mutters under her breath, desperate to remember, she owes them that much. 

 

“Don’t touch me.” She spits when one of the soldiers brushes her hair out of her face as the chair tilts backwards and starts up with a sickening whirring sound. The smell of burning fills her nostrils and she screams.

 

…

 

 

“Peggy?”

 

“Hmm? Sorry, I was miles away.” She says, mindlessly stirring her tea. 

 

“That’s okay.” Daniel says, kissing her forehead and moving to grab the newspaper from the front stoop. 

 

“Do you..do you ever get the feeling you’ve forgotten something?”

 

“Like you’ve left the oven on?”

 

“Yes!” 

 

“Well have you checked the oven?”

 

She does, and it’s on. They laugh.

 

“Well that solves that then.”

 

 

…

 

“The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.”

 

…

 

 

They tell her she hit her head. They tell her memory loss is common, and when she sleeps she tells Steve that he’s not to blame for his best friend’s death. _“Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him? Then stop blaming yourself. Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you were worth it."_

 

Choice is a young woman’s game. 

 

She has so few choices left to make.

 

 

…

 

 

“Hey! Don’t touch her!” She hears Daniel call as she’s pulled down another corridor away from him, stoic Russian soldiers flanking her on each side. She can hear muffled screams and her heart hammers against her chest. She is not too proud to admit fear, but she is glad to have insisted that Mr. Jarvis stay well away. 

 

It takes her a moment to see past the horror of a man, tied down and yelling incoherently, but she sees it. She sees _him_ , and the world seems to tip on its axis.

 

“No,” she whispers, “Oh…oh god, what..?”

 

Sergeant Barnes is strapped to a gurney, thrashing and pulling at his bonds. There’s a thick leather  strap fastened around his head and neck and ankles and… wrist (singular, oh god, singular). There’s another in his mouth, gagging him. Peggy lunges to the left, stabs her heel into one man’s foot, while using her right elbow to break the other man’s nose. She runs forward, and takes James’ head in her hands. 

 

“James? Oh god what have they done to you?” 

 

There is no recognition in his eyes, but she can see the terror there, and the unshed tears of a desperate man.  He tries to speak but he can’t past the gag, and Peggy’s pulling at the bonds but she’s not strong enough, and she hasn’t got a knife and suddenly she’s being pulled back again by the thugs that held her a moment ago.

 

“Let him go!” She screams as loud as she possibly can, thumping her fist against her captors. Her voice is shrill and manic but she has to make them listen. “You can’t do this! You can’t! Let him go!” 

 

“Now Miss Carter, you have done me a disservice.” The doctor says, unfazed by her demands. “You filed a flight-log, and you brought along another SSR Agent who will be missed. You left a trail that could bring attention to our business.” He tuts. “We cannot have that. Not when we are so close. But I will give you a gift. You brought me to America after all. Without you, none of this would be possible.”

 

She feels sick, because he’s right. 

 

“Let. Him. Go.”

 

“No. He will be our greatest asset. I will, however, let _you_ go.”

 

“And I’ll bring the might of the entire U.S Army down on you!” She’s almost screeching now, and she thinks Bucky’s thrashing is almost in sync with her rage. “You’re holding one of their most decorated soldiers prisoner! He’s a war-hero _goddamn you_! You’re torturing him! I’ll never let you forget—”

 

“But, don’t you see, Miss Carter? That’s exactly what you _will_ do.”

 

She frowns at the man, and feels her blood turn to ice as he leans in, smiling, worrying his ring around his middle finger.

 

“Forget.”

 

 

…

 

“Steve, you’re _alive.”_

 

…

 

When Steve comes to visit, it’s on one of her good days. Few and far between, she knows. She sits herself up in bed as best she can. Her hair is already brushed, and she’s been practising a smile that won’t break his heart. It’s 2014, and Steve’s alive. _Don’t forget, don’t forget._

 

“I brought an old friend, I thought you might wanna see each other.” He says carefully, urging her to tell him if it’s not alright, smiling in such a way that says he’ll understand if she says no. But she’s curious, and it’s a good day, and oh how she longs to see so many old friends again. 

 

“Hey Peggy.” A young man with brown hair—a little longer than Steve’s—greets her in the doorway.  He has a bouquet in his arms, that he dutifully puts in a vase, and a smile that looks caught between bashful and flirtatious. She can see, even from her position on the bed that his eyes are a murky blue. 

 

Her hand goes to her mouth and she gasps. 

 

“J-James?”  But it can’t be.

 

_Blue eyes, so lost and afraid and she thinks if he weren’t gagged he’d be begging her for help. Oh my boy, What have they done to you? Muffled screams and her mantra tried and true, don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget._

 

She starts to sob, and can’t seem to stop. Her body shakes and all at once James is apologising and backing away and Steve is by her side asking what’s wrong and simultaneously reassuring her that everything’s alright. But it can’t be, and she knows that now with resounding horror.

 

_Let him go! You can’t do this!_

 

A nurse runs in, and darts to Peggy’s side, telling Steve and Bucky that they need to leave, _right now_ , before turning back to her agitated patient and hushing her gently.

 

“I forgot.” Peggy tells the nurse forlornly, clawing at the front of her uniform, breath hitched. “They….and I couldn’t. I couldn’t. _I forgot_.”

 

Today is a bad day.

 

…

 

_don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget._

...

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from T.S. Eliot's _Gerontion_  
>  _'Time takes it all...'_ \- quote from _The Green Mile_ by Stephen King.  
>  _‘Quoth he, “The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.'_ is from _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ by Coleridge  
>  'Of her memories most were happy' is from Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
> 
> feel free to say hello on [tumblr](http://mellaithwen.tumblr.com/) :)


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